Nowhere Girl
by FlowerChild17
Summary: It's 1961, Hamburg, and John Lennon feels an amazing connection with a girl he knows he'll never meet again. What happens when they meet again, years later? Will Auri be able to stay and love John, or will she be a nowhere girl forever? An Across the Universe and Beatles story. Re-published I deleted it accidentally .
1. Prologue

**Hey, FanFictioners! So, Nowhere Girl is back ... again ... for the third time ... sorry. :P I deleted it accidentally last time, and didn't get around to putting it back up. But, yeah, here it is. :D I haven't changed this chapter at all since the last time it was put up, but I shall be changing stuff in the other chapters. :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

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**Nowhere Girl**

**Hello Little Girl**

PROLOGUE

The club is full of people dancing and drinking. Guys stand close to the bar, holding their drinks and smoking. Girls dance - shit, those German girls can move. The bright lights of the stage reflect off the clouds of cigarette smoke that hang in the air. I can't see the crowd clearly, but I can hear them screaming for us, waiting for us to give them what they had come for: music. Music so that they can go crazy. So we do. Ringo taps his drumsticks together four times and then we start playing. Paul sings and I sing harmonies over his voice, and the crowd of people surge below us, yelling and jumping and dancing drunkenly. The high of performing kicks in - it just feels so good. It feels I'm opening the floodgates for the rivers of music running in my veins. I bleed.

George ends his solo on a high note and Paul and I sing the chorus one last time. Then it's over, and we're bowing to the screams of the crowd. I clap my bandmates on the back as we walk backstage and leave our instruments there, and then go to the club again. This is the second fun part of the night.

Girls crowd around us, pressing drinks into our hands and smiling flirtatiously. Now's when I get drunk and take some random girl back to the hotel. Just another ordinary night on tour.

I down one drink and a German girl gives me another one. She's kind of pretty: eyes done up with black makeup, blonde hair, tight dress. 'Wanna dance?' she says, leaning towards me seductively. 'Sure, baby,' I say - she looks good enough - and I almost go with her. I pause because on the other side of the room, through the haze of smoke and silhouettes of people, I can see another girl looking at me. Her skin is pale and her hair is long and straight and brown. She's wearing a green dress and she has a silver band around her head: she's dressed - what's the word? - bohemian. She's not like most of these girls in the clubs - she doesn't hold herself in a way that suggests attitude and walk with that hip-swaying knows-the-world's-looking-at-her walk. She kind of drifts through, beautiful and curious and in her own world. But when she sees me looking at her, she just smiles to herself and starts walking away.

I follow her. Halfway across the room, I tap her shoulder. She has a dove tattooed on it. She turns around and raises her eyebrow at me. I think she will stop and introduce herself, but when I wait for her to say something, she just continues walking. I catch her hand. 'Hey!' I say as she turns again. I mean for my smile to be flirty, but instead it comes out different - boyish and too innocent. Maybe it's because she looks innocent. 'Let's dance.'

'Okay.' She puts her hands on my shoulders - bracelets circle her wrists - and I put my hands on her waist and we dance. There's some other band playing now. She has brown eyes. All around us, the room is filled with the heat of bodies moving against each other. I don't know if she is, but I'm drunk. I pull her closer and she lets me. Alcohol courses through my veins, pumps my adrenalin, tells me to go father. I lean in and we start kissing. Her lips are intoxicating. She's clearly not as innocent as she looks. 'Come on,' I say, breaking away. 'Let's go someplace private.'

I consider going backstage, but then decide against it in case one of the other guys is already there. Instead, I decide we could go back to the place where we are staying - behind a theatre. I grab her hand and we leave the club. We walk through the dark streets, but as I start turning towards the street that will take us to the theatre, she tugs my hand. I look at her questioningly, but she just pulls my hand the other way. Maybe she knows a better place for us to go? She's taking me to the park. Oh, well, can't say no to that, just as long as no one sees us ...

But we don't have sex.

Instead, we walk through the park and talk and talk. Normally, I would feel cheated and leave her immediately to get some other bird from the club who's willing - there are enough of those - but this girl is intriguing to talk to. She asks me one million questions about things like what is outside the universe and whether I believe in God and whether there are spirits and what is the point of existence. She makes me talk like I've never talked before. And every time I try to ask her something about herself, she somehow turns my words around and ends up making me spill more. She somehow manages to slip under my witty words and open up the faucet of real words, the thoughts inside John Lennon's head. We talk about so many things. She's not just a city girl - she tells me she's traveled a lot; she lives for music and art and experiences. She doesn't believe in religion or God, but she's certainly spiritual and believes in the beauty of the world. The things she says about the world and about life, they make me think in a new way I don't think any girl - or any person - has ever made me think before. Most girls to me are just playthings, literally. This one's not: this one I can talk to. The things she says intrigued me as much as her long, straight hair that looks like spun coffee, her innocent but experienced face, the visions that play around somewhere inside her brown eyes.

The sky above Hamburg is beginning to lighten when she says, 'I have to go now. It was nice meeting you, John Lennon.' She kisses me, lightly as a feather, and then turns and walks away. 'Wait!' I shout. 'What's your name?' I know I'll never see this beautiful girl again, but I have to know her name. She smiles over the dove tattoo on her shoulder. 'Auri,' she says. And then she's gone.

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**Even if you've read this before- review? Please? Just to let me know you have. :) -Jen. **


	2. Chapter 1

**Thanks for the reviews :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

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**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Two: I've Just Seen A Face**

The streets of this part of New York are filled with hippies and anti-war activists.

I pass a pair of children dancing on the sidewalk with flowers in their hair, and recognize the song they dance to as one of ours. A couple of bearded hipsters lean up against the sidewalk, joints dripping ashes into their beards. I hunch deeper in my coat, not wanting to be recognized through my dark glasses and fake beard. Hurrying my pace, I find a ladder blocking my way. A girl stands on top of it, painting the wall in front of her. She makes rainbow swirls with her fingertips. I watch her hands stretching out the psychedelic lines of paint under her fingers. As I pass the ladder, I accidentally knock down a bowl of paint balanced on the rung below her feet. I bend to pick it up; most of the paint has splattered on the sidewalk. 'Sorry,' I say, putting on a fake American accent and handing it back to her. Her toes are adorned with silver rings. 'It's okay,' she answers, looking down.

I see her face, and my memory is flung back to Hamburg, 1960. I've slept with a lot of girls, but this one I remember because she was the one I didn'tsleep with. Instead, we stayed out walking through the dark streets all night and talking about things. I remember her for the thoughts she put in my head, the way she looked at the universe and life. I can't ever forget that night. Her name is - it only takes me a second to recall her name, because it's one I'd ever heard before or since - Auri. 'Auri,' I blurt out. She looks at me and cocks her head to the side. 'Hamburg, 1960,' she states. 'John?'

She recognizes me through my disguise. Impressive. 'Yes!' I exclaim. 'What are you doing here?'

'Painting a wall,' she says happily. She shows me the paint on the tips of her fingers.'

'I mean in New York.'

'Well, I heard it was a lot of fun - music, parties, dope.' She smiles. 'And to protest against the Vietnam war, of course.' Auri scrunches her face. 'Wars aren't nice things, you know?'

'They are not,' I agree. 'Want to get lunch with me somewhere? I ran away from the rest of the band. They're probably looking for me, but they can look a little longer.'

'The Beatles!' she exclaims, pointing a blue-tipped finger at my chest. She sings, 'She loves you, yeah, yeah yeah.'

'That's right,' I say, grinning, pleased. 'Well, do you want to?'

She nods and wipes the paint from her fingertips on the butt of her jeans, and gets down from the ladder. We begin to walk down the street. 'Is that beard real?'

'Nuh uh.'

'It looks silly.'

'I have to wear it, love, the fans will recognize me.'

'Oh,' she says. 'I hate walking in such a boring way. Come on!' she grabs my arm and starts skipping - yes, skipping - down the street. I'm about to tell her that John Lennon doesn't do that sort of thing, but instead I find myself laughing and skipping beside her as people stare at us passing. The sun's in my eyes and in front of me, Auri's brown sunlit hair dances. 'John, what the hell?' demands Paul, as we pass the car that he, George, Brian and Ringo are getting out of. 'We've been looking for you everywhere.'

I just smile, wave, and skip past.

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**Thanks for reading! :) -Jen. **


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

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**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Three: I Feel Fine**

John's POV

'And this one is called, I Wanna Hold Your Hand,' Paul announces into the mic. The crowd goes crazy. Girls scream, wail as though they'e physically pained to see us on stage. When Paul starts singing, they positively howl, tears running down their faces. Can they even hear us over that goddamn loud noise they're making? 'Yeah, I'll tell you something, I think you'll understand,' sings Paul. 'When I, say that something, I wanna hold your ha-and!' George and I join in - 'I wanna hold your ha-a-and, I wanna hold your hand.' Paul wags his head, grinning, and George bounces up and down happily. I can't see Ringo, but I'm sure that he's smiling goofily and nodding his head.

That's when I recognize a girl in the crowd - Auri. She's not screaming or howling. I can't hear her of course, but I can see her mouth moving as she sings with us - she knows every word. She sees me looking at her and grins. I grin back. The high of performing kicks into me again, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I try to look for Auri again, but she's disappeared.

'Alright boys, disguises on,' orders Brian.

'Aww but Brian, there's a party going on downstairs!' complains Paul. He's packing up his bass.

'If you want to get mobbed, you can go out there.'

'Yeah Macca, those fans'll eat you alive!' says George, shuddering.

Poor guy, the fans seriously freak him out. He puts on a huge bushy beard, sunglasses, and a hat pulled down over his forehead.

I put on an extra-curly moustache that Auri would find funny and a curly wig that belongs to Ringo. 'Hey, that's mine,' protests Ringo. He makes a grab for it, but I duck under his arm and go out onto the street, hunching my coat around myself.

I've just turned the corner of the street when someone prods my moustache-covered cheek. 'Agh!' I yell, preparing to arm myself against a mob of fans, but it's only Auri, giggling at my disguise. 'Nice moustache,' she says. 'Curly hair looks good on you.'

'Really?' I say eagerly.

'No!' she laughs. 'I was kidding, you look ridiculous.'

'Well let's see how you look in this!' I rip the wig off my head and jam it onto hers. 'Hey!' she yells indignantly, pulling the curly wig off. 'Do not touch my hair.'

'Oh really?' I say teasingly.  
'Really,' she says, looking deadly serious.

'Okay,' I say. She nods and we continue walking. Then I grab her hair and put my hands all over it. 'Aaaaghhh!' Auri screams. 'This man is raping me! Get him offf!' She twists and pushes her fist into my stomach. It's not a hard blow but nobody hits John Lennon. I let go and clutch my stomach. 'No one,' I say through gritted teeth, and I'm about to finish by saying hits John Lennon but she exclaims, 'I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hit you! I just wanted to get you off my hair. I'm so sorry John, please forgive me, I didn't mean to hit you.'

Well, who can stay mad at those huge brown eyes?

'I think ... I can't ever talk to you again.' Her eyes widen. 'Why?' she asks piteously.

'Because that really hurt,' I say, struggling to keep a straight face.

She looks surprised and mildly self-satisfied. 'Really?'

'Really,' I say, my jaw twitching. She looks sad. I can't keep up my straight face straight anymore. 'Got you!' I crow, grinning. 'I'm not mad at you, love, of course you couldn't hurt me.'

'I could,' Auri says defensively. She looks at me concernedly, 'Are you sure you didn't get hurt?'

'Yes, positive,' I answer, laughing. 'You couldn't hurt anyone.'

'Yes, I could!' Auri say crossly. 'I haven't survived all these years on luck!'

'Hmm. I think you should buy me an ice cream to apologize,' I decide, as we pass an ice cream truck.

'Okay,' she says happily. She buys us two ice creams - a chocolate cone for me and an orange ice lolly for herself. Mmm, ice cream. I could live on that stuff. I grab Auri's ice cream and steal a lick.

I feel years younger when I hang out with Auri - literally. Right now, I feel like a kiddie. 'Let's go to the zoo,' I say. Auri glares at me. 'Zoos are horrible places, they lock up animals and don't treat them right!'  
Dissatisfied that I haven't been able to please her, I quickly try to amend my statement and say, 'Oh, well, we don't have to go to the zoo then. Let's go ...'

'Beach!' says Auri excitedly, grabbing my arm.

'Just one problem, love ... there isn't a beach around here.' 'Oh right,' she says, looking disappointed. 'Well, it's one o'clock ...'

'One o'clock!' I repeat. I hadn't noticed the time passing. 'Well alright then, let's go home.'

'Home?' Auri gives me a pitying look. 'Already?'

'Hey, I'm a Beatle. It ain't easy, girl!' I down the last bit of my ice cream cone. She's barely licked half an inch off hers. 'Gotta get me beauty sleep!'

'Alright,' she laughs. 'But you're taking me out for lunch sometime, okay?'

'Okay!' I say eagerly. 'How about tomorrow?' We've got a press conference tomorrow, but it can go die.' Pffft. press conference? Brian might just kill me if I miss it, but screw that.

She scrunches her face, thinking. 'Nope, there's a protest march on the campus tomorrow,' she says. 'Day after?'

'Yes!' I say. The day after tomorrow seems a long way away.

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**Thanks for reading! :) Please review and tell me what you think. -Jen. **


	4. Chapter 3

**Thank you for the reviews :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

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**Nowhere Girl  
Chapter Four: Got To Get You Into My Life**

It's half past seven and it strikes me that I don't know where Auri lives, so where will I pick her up from?

I didn't think of this before, it makes me feel stupid now. Maybe George knows. He came back from lunch with her looking a little too happy for my liking - well, that kid oughta know better than to steal my girl! If he did anything with her, I'll show him. I open the door to his and Paul's room - he's sitting cross-legged on the bed, having a smoke. 'Ello there Georgie, how was yer date with me girl?'

'Wasn't a date,' says George. 'And she's not yer girl yet anyway.'

'Yeah, yeah, whatever,' I say shortly. 'Do ya know where she lives?'

George blinks at me. 'No, why would I know where she lives?'

'Didn't ya walk her home like a good little gentleman?'

'No-o-o,' says George. 'She went somewhere else, a protest march or a fair or sumthin' like that.'

I frown. 'No idea where I could find her?'

'Nope.'

'Well, thank you, Mr. Harrison, that was extremely helpful,' I say sarcastically.

'You're welcome!' says George happily. That kid can be so innocent sometimes. Sigh.

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But when it's a quarter to eight, I'm still not ready and I don't know how to find Auri. I can not let dinner with Auri go. Not after I forgot about lunch ... I stalk up and down my room, smoking like crazy, trying to figure out what to do.

... which is when there's a knock on the door of my room. I open the door, and it's Auri. She's wearing a pretty tie-dyed summer dress, and bunches of silver bangles and anklets. 'Hello,' she says, smiling. 'Ready?' Instantly I realize that I'm wearing a ratty t-shirt and a pair of Paul's pants which is extremely loose on my hips - and my hair's none too neat either. 'Um... I was just going to go change.'

'You look just fine,' she says, eyeing me speculatively. Then she spots the cigarette in my hand. 'But cigarettes make your breath smell bad. You better brush your teeth.' She drags me by the hand into the bathroom. 'You have gotta be kidding me,' I say disbelievingly.

'Nuh uh,' she states. 'I'm not gonna go out with someone who has bad breath. That is a rule.'

'Well, I'm sure_George_has perfectly good breath,' I mutter under my breath.

'What?' she asks, not having heard what I said. Good thing she didn't.

'Nothing,' I mumble into a mouthful of toothpaste. I look into the mirror and catch sight of my face, with toothpaste around my mouth, and blush. I look ridiculous. Then I catch sight of Auri's face behind my shoulder, and our eyes meet and I make a funny expression at her. We both burst out laughing, me spewing white stuff all over the sink. 'Is this good enough for ya?' I say jokingly once I'm done rinsing my mouth. 'Hmm,' she says thoughtfully. 'I'll have to see.'

'Here, why don't I show ya,' I lean in closer to her, my mouth inches from hers. She stands perfectly still and then the second I've leaned in fully to kiss her she takes my arm and says, 'Come on, let's go.' This leaves me slightly confused, but unperturbed. I haven't encountered a girl who throws away the opportunity to kiss John Lennon recently - though we did make out in Hamburg, years ago - but this does nothing to stop me. It's impossible to be unhappy in Auri's presence. She's like a bright sun, happy and carefree - though I sometimes think of her as my moon fey, wandering through space timelessly.

You'd think a Beatle could plan the best date for a girl 's not so simple. Rich we may be, but those fans - they've discovered the hotel we're staying at, and there are constant hoards of them surrounding the hotel. I've planned for us to leave the hotel in disguise through the back exit, but as Auri and I walk down the corridor, we're stopped by Rings and George, who tell us with a kind of fascinated horror that they tried to leave the hotel in disguise as we're planning to, but the fans, taking turns to watch all entries and exits to the hotel, alerted each other through a complex communicative system. Ingenuous maybe, but they've effectively caged us in here. Oh joy.

'That's okay, we can have fun in the hotel,' says Auri. George and Ringo waggle their eyebrows at us, but Auri just looks at them blankly. Clearly, she didn't mean it in a suggestive way, but my pervy bandmates don't get that. We leave them in the corridor and she leads me back to the bedroom. Hmm, maybe she didmean it in a suggestive way ... Auri rips the bedspread off the bed and grins at me. 'Let's make a city!'

'A city?'

'Of tents,' she clarifies.

I should be disappointed, but everything's fun with Auri and I find myself as excitedly childlike as she is. 'We're going to build the biggest tent city in the world!'

An hour and a half later, Auri and I stand in the doorway of my hotel room, proud as new mothers. We grin at each other and then drop to our hands and knees to crawl through the tunnel that's made of a bedsheet stretched between a line of chairs and suitcases. I close the flap behind myself and follow Auri through the various tunnels leading to side rooms of the magnificent mansion - which includes a courtyard in the middle and three outhouses and a garden on the balcony, not to mention the four rooms. We crawl slowly and carefully, not wanting our masterpiece to crash down around our ears, and then I say excitedly, 'I know! I'll be right back.' I wriggle through the tent to the outer wall, which is supported by one of Ringo's suitcases. The outer pouch doesn't have his clothes - it has his teddy bear, which I'm not allowed to touch, a shitload of candy, and a bunch of scented candles - Ringo's favourite things. I grab the scented candles and carry them back with some difficulty to the bed. I smile at her expression of delight as they spill out of my arms, and then I take out a cigarette lighter and start lighting them. She picks up one candles and uses it to light the others. 'Apple scented's my favourite,' she says. 'What's yours?'

I pick up a couple of candles and smell them. 'Vanilla,' I say, grinning. 'It reminds me of you.' Then we carefully arrange them around the tent chamber. This is probably not so safe, but I don't care. In our little candlelit tent, we order room service. When the food arrives, the waiter stares at us like we're loonies - yep, how often do you give room service to a Beatle who's made his hotel room into a gigantic tent made out of bedsheets? - and I'm in a good mood so I give him a nice tip plus a handful of Ringo's gummy worms, which Auri and I were eating. Auri and I eat our dinner and I think she's beautiful, she may seem carefree and innocent and happy but I remember that night in Hamburg and the things we said that night, and I know there's so much more to her.

We finish eating and then we talk, I don't know how long - inside of this tent, and the ring of candles, everything's timeless. This is when I get to see that side of heragain, the one I saw in Hamburg. The one that I think only very few people get to see.

Then I lean in slowly, a little hesitant; she's like a wild animal, so easy to scare away. But her eyes slide closed, and then I lean in all the way and kiss her. This isn't like our drunk, alcohol-fuelled kiss in Hamburg, the badass city; it's soft and sweet. I draw back for a second; her eyes are still closed, like she's far away in another place. She opens them and smiles, showing that child-like gap in her teeth. 'Good thing you brushed your teeth, innit?'

'Yeah,' I agree, grinning, 'real good thing.' Then I kiss her again.

This time, it's a very different sort of kiss.

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**Review and tell me what you think :) Thanks for reading! -Jen. **


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey there, Beatlemaniacs :) I had thought about removing this story from the site, because the second time I posted it I didn't get too many reviews, which demotivated me, but I've already got all this stuff written from before, so I thought, why not publish it? I hope you like it, and even if you've read this before, I'll be putting up the newer chapters soon! Review and tell me what you think :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

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**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Four: I Want To Hold Your Hand**

It's early, really early, in the morning - I know this because my body clock tells me as soon as I open my eyes that I need several more hours of sleep. I'm about to shut them when a soft voice says, 'John.' I don't respond; Paul or Brian, whichever one has the guts to wake me up before a sane hour, can wait till I get up myself.

Wait. Paul or Brian don't have voices that sweet. 'John.' I open my eyes and see a face bending over me; I don't believe in heaven, but that face, lit by the pale early light, is like an angel's. 'I have to go now,' her sweet voice says. She kisses my lips and then she's gone. I shut my eyes and fall back into a happy sleep.

When I wake, I'm alone in the tent. 'Auri,' I call softly, and then I recall the sleep-fogged memory of her saying she had to go. I feel a pang of regret and then grab one of the sheets from our magnificent tent to hide my nakedness. I crawl through the tent on all fours, searching for my clothes, and then I find them thrown in one of the chambers of the tent. I grab them and I'm just straightening up in the only part of the room not occupied by the tent when the door opens and Ringo, George and Paul stand there, amused expressions on their faces as they see our masterpiece of a tent and me, swathed in a bedsheet. 'Had a good night, John?' smirks Paul, and George and Ringo snigger. I ignore them and head to the bathroom, singing in the shower as I get ready for another long day.

* * *

'I wrote a song,' I announce when I've had the generosity to grace the band with my presence.

They're sitting in the living room of our suite. George is half-asleep but still smoking - that kid smokes way too many ciggies - Ringo is inhaling what looks like his fourth cup of coffee, and Paul's playing his guitar. There's something in Paul that reminds me of Auri. I can't quite place what it is. It's that thing that's the reason I guess that Paul is my closest mate - and the reason I've fallen so hopelessly for Auri.

'Morning, lads!' I say brightly. I grab a cup of coffee and swig it down.

'Someone's in a good mood,' smirks Paul.

'He's got a good reason ter be,' giggles Ringo. 'She's a bit different from yer normal type, eh Johnny?' I stick my tongue out at both of them and grab my guitar. I've got a feeling, a feeling that tells me I've got a song inside me. My fingers explore the strings that they're so familiar with, that they can constantly make new sounds out of, discover new sides of. I just need the right words now. They're there, on the edge of my brain, right out of my reach - I've just got to catch them. Hold my hand ... I want to ... take my hand ... no. Frustrated, I play another chord and then it all falls in. I wanna hold your hand ... that's it. 'Lads I got a song!' I exclaim. George and Ringo ignore me, but Paul quickly scoots closer to me on the couch. 'Whatcha got, Johnny?'

I play what I have for him. 'But I've gotta think of words,' I say, and spot Brian's planner lying on the coffee table and grab it. I open to a fresh page somewhere in the middle of the diary and begin to write.

'I think when will sound better than if over there,' Paul points to the beginning of a verse that I've just scribbled down. I pause, re-reading it, then scratch it out and scrawl when in place of what I had written. Half an hour later, we've perfect the verses and the chorus. 'Now we just need a bridge,' says Paul brightly.

Surprisingly, it's George who sits down next to us and takes Paul's guitar. 'Try this,' he says, playing a chord progression while Paul and I watch sceptically: George and Ringo don't normally help us with songwriting. But it sounds just right. 'Write that down,' Paul tells me, and I quickly scribble down the chords that George is playing.

Five minutes later, the song is all done and we jump up ecstatically to tell Brian the news as he walks in, looking considerably shaken and beat-up. Fabric torn from his suit, his hair rumpled, a shoe missing. 'Fans,' he gasps, 'they're bloody violent! Tore my new jacket,' he sniffs dispassionately and discards the tattered thing on the coffee table.

I'm in such a good mood right now that I can't stand to see anyone sad. 'Guess what Eppy!' I yell, grabbing his hands and jumping up and down. 'We wrote a new song.'

'Well let's hear it then,' grunts Brian. We all sit down on the couch, guitars in our hands, and Ringo makes a makeshift drum set out of the coffee table, an empty plastic bottle and George's head. 'Yeah, I'll tell you something,' I sing, 'I think you'll understand ...'c

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'She really got ya good, then, hasn't she?' I feel Paul's gaze on me as I stare out of the car window at the streets passing by. It's kind of amazing how he can tell exactly what I'm thinking. There are a bunch of hippies lounging on the sidewalks in the sun. One of those girls with flowers in their brown hair could be Auri ... I check each one as we pass, just to make sure.

'Mm,' I mumble in response to Paul. 'She ain't nothing like the last one,' pipes George, 'or the one before that or the one before that or -'

'Yeah, yeah, we get it,' I cut off George's chain. 'Keep yer hands off her Harri.'

'I wasn't trying to steal her,' says George indignantly. 'I was just saying she's not yer normal type, ya know?'

'I know,' I say, pacified. 'She's special.'

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**Thanks for reading! :) -Jen. **


	6. Chapter 5

**Two chapters in one day, yay! I've decided to post everything I've written so far. Mostly because that is a much better way to fill my time than, say, study for my exams. O:) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

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**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Five: She's Special**

Another morning when I've been woken way too early for my liking.

I turn over without shutting my eyes, hoping that I'll just fall back asleep, but there's a sound coming from the window that I can't ignore ... I sit up so fast that my head spins as I see someone standing by the open window. Oh. my. god. Fans. They've climbed in through my window. I snatch the pillow out from under a snoring Ringo's head and make to throw it when I see the girl is Auri. Relief comes first, then happiness. It occurs to me that I'm in my pyjamas and my hair is crazy, but I sprint out of the bed, ignoring Ringo's mumbled protest as I drop the pillow onto his head, and throw my arms around Auri. She smells good - the source of the sweet scent is the flowers in her long, brown hair. I lean back and grin at her, and then I kiss her. 'How did ya get in through the window, love? Did ya climb up?'

'Yep,' she says proudly. 'I climbed up the pipe.'

I whistle admiringly. 'Let me just get changed and then we can go get breakfast.'

'Okay,' she says, smiling. She sits down on the bed next to Ringo's feet, crossing her legs, and watches as I find a bunch of clothes in my suitcase and head to the bathroom. I change my clothes so fast that my shirt comes on crooked and I have to wear it again. Then I brush my teeth, remembering her insistence upon this on our first date. When I get out of the bathroom, I'm relieved to see she's still sitting there. With Auri, it's impossible to know when she'll leave. I kiss her and then take her out to the living room of our suite. Paul and George sit there. 'Hello there, lads!' I say brightly. In response, they both groan. That's when I notice that they're both huddled in blankets, still in their pyjamas. I point at them. 'Eppy's gonna eat you,' I say seriously. 'Ya better go get ready before he sees ya!'

'The interview is cancelled,' says Paul. His voice is oddly croaky. 'Cause two of the Beatles are sick.'

That explains it. 'Really?' I say, ecstatic.

'Yeah, John, nice ta see ya care about our health,' says George in a voice that sounds like his nose is blocked. I do feel kind of guilty, but of course I'm happy I've got the day free - now I can spend it with Auri.

'Aww, poor liddle Georgie-Worgie, do ya want Mommy to blow yer nose for ya?' I tease in a baby voice, pulling George's cheeks. He shakes away my hands irritably. 'No, but you can get me a cup of tea,' he croaks.

'Do I have to?' I moan.

'Yes. I'm sick, that means you have to get me everything I ask for,' George informs me obstinately. I roll my eyes and turn around to take Auri's hand and get out of the hotel, but she's disappeared. I've lost her! Panicked, I say, 'Where did she go?' This makes Paul drop his half-dead look and laugh. 'She's right behind ya, mate,' he says, giggling, and points to the kitchen. To my relief, I see her there, getting George his tea and I run over. 'Don't scare me like that,' I groan, burying my face in her hair. 'I keep thinking you'll disappear.'

Auri gently disentangles herself from my arms and carries George his tea. 'Thank you,' croaks George.

'Need anything else?' she asks, ruffling his hair.

'He's perfectly fine, I'm sure,' I say, peeved, and protectively pull her away. George scowls at me. 'Well, ta-ta, laddies, get better!' I blow kisses at my sick bandmates and prance out of the room, brightened with the prospect of a whole, golden, free day to spend with Auri. Shit, I've been doing that a lot - prancing, I mean. Auri's influence, I guess. Oh, well. Who cares what other people think? It's fun.

'So, where do ya want to go?' I ask Auri excitedly, once we've escaped the fans (through a van that was parked near the back exit of the hotel, which was full of boxes of apple juice). 'Anywhere,' she says, grinning. 'But it's gotta be fun, fun, fun.'

I grin back. I know exactly where to go.

* * *

'That,' declares Auri, picking a piece of cotton candy out of her long brown hair, 'was the funnest date ever!'

A warm feeling blossoms inside me and I grin stupidly. Auri and I spent the day at the carnival, riding the Ferris wheel and playing games - and eating tons of cotton candy, of which we're both insanely huge fans - and then we went to the National History Museum - the rest of the band would be horrified to know it, but I actually find that stuff interesting - and then we went to the aquarium, ogling at the fish with fish-eyes. We got pretzels off one of the street vans for lunch. All in all, one of the happiest days of my life.

I lean in to peck Auri's cheek and she giggles, 'Your moustache tickles.' she protests as I try to lean in closer. I rip off the offending thing and this time she doesn't stop me. We stand there kissing, the world fading into a blissful oblivion around us, till a piercing shriek rips up apart. 'Oh my god, it's John Lennon!'

'Fuck,' I curse, plastering the fake moustache onto my face. Trust the fans to ruin the end of this day. The moustache dangles half-off my face uselessly. There's already a trio of girls squealing in front of me, begging for my number and autograph. One of them scowls at Auri. 'That's the girl he was kissing? But she's so plain looking!' That comment makes me go stiff with fury. How dare that girl say Auri is plain looking? She's the most beautiful girl I've seen - certainly more beautiful than the fan girl's make-upped lipsticky face, which is twisted with contempt. Before I can spit a reply at her, Auri snatches the girl's scarf and throws it around my head - covering all but my eyes. Then she grabs my arm and we run. We dodge people all the way till we reach a row of yellow cabs parked up by the curb, where we stop. Auri throws open the door and I dive into the cab, even though it's occupied, and she gets in after me. 'Can't you see this cab's taken?' says the yellow-toothed driver in a New York accent.

'We're being followed by an angry mob, won't you please just take us a couple of streets down? We don't mind going wherever you're headed,' Auri says with the most charming, sweet smile before I can play the I'm-John-fookin'-Lennon card. The driver relents and starts driving. I quickly duck my head down into Auri's lap so that the fans won't see me. She plays with my hair, running her fingers through it, sending shivers of warmth through me. My eyes slowly drift shut ...

* * *

'John, wake up.' Auri lifts my head off her lap and gets out of the car. I sit up, disoriented, and untangle the shawl from around my head. 'Thanks,' I mumble to the driver, who's eyes are popping out of his skull as he realises he just gave a ride to a Beatle - albeit a sleepy one. 'Keep that on,' says Auri, and I obediently douse my head in the shawl, not wanting to attract fans again. We manage to enter the hotel and get to the stairwell without anyone recognizing us, other than the waiters and servants, who are expecting me anyway.

'I should go now,' says Auri, and my heart sinks. 'Won't ya stay the night?' I beg her. She smiles and shakes her head, 'I can't. I'll see you sometime around.' Sometime around isn't very reassuring ... but she's closed her eyes, face tilted upwards, waiting for me to kiss her, so I shove aside my doubts and eagerly press my lips to hers. I part her lips with mine, her hands on the sides of my neck sending shivers up my spine, and I tangle my hands in her hair and on the small of her back, but as usual it ends too soon and I'm left standing alone on the staircase again.

* * *

When I get to the room, Paul is asleep on the couch and George is reading a book. 'How're ya feeling, Georgie boy?' I ask George.

'The same,' croaks George sadistically. 'Any chance you could order me sumthin' from room service? I'm starving.'

'Is there any time you aren't?' I say, rolling my eyes. 'Hey! You be nice to me, now,' says George. 'I've bin sick all day while you got to have fun.'

'Alright,' I relent. 'Is there anything else His Highness would like?'

'Yes!' pipes George. 'Tea, please. And a ciggie.'

'No cigarettes for you. You have a bad throat.'

'No, I don't!' protests George, and launches into a fit of coughing. 'If you don't get it for me, I'll get it for meself,' he says thickly when he stops coughing, and wipes his nose on his sleeve.

'No, ya won't. You're too lazy.' I sit next to him and light myself a cigarette, keeping the box well away from him. He eyes the one in my hand.

'Oh look, John's back!' says Ringo, emerging from his room. 'Say, have ya seen my red shirt, John?'

'All your shirts are red, Ringo.'

Ringo frowns. 'I've bin looking everywhere!' Then he spots Paul lying asleep on the couch and leaps gleefully over to George and me. 'Let's draw on Paul's face.'

George and I giggle like little boys and one of us produces a large black marker. 'Do somethin' bout those perfect eyebrows, will ya,' smirks George, and Ringo makes them heavy and black. Paul murmurs in his sleep and shrugs away. George doodles on his chubby cheeks. Then I write We love you Macca on his forehead, and make a curly moustache on his upper lip. Paul's nose twitches as I colour it black and without warning, he sneezes. Straight on me, gross! 'Yuch!' I scream, jumping back and dropping the marker. 'Gross, you spread your germs all over me! Euggghhh.' Ringo and George howl with laughter while Paul looks at all of us with confusion, black marker writing all over his face. When none of us explain, he shrugs and goes back to sleep.

* * *

**This was a random chapter, I know. I like throwing in random fluff. Thanks for reading! :D -Jen. **


	7. Chapter 6

**Three chapters in one day! Yay. The chapter title is due to my recently revived love for Santana, whom I watched LIVE this week :'D **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

* * *

**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Six: She's Not There**

'Wake up, wake up,' sings an angelic voice, and I bolt upright in my bed, only to find myself staring into darkness.

It's been three days since I saw Auri. This wouldn't have been something that bothers me persistently if I knew how to find her, or contact her. But nothing. I don't have a phone number, an address, even a place where she might hang out frequently. For all I may know, she may be dead. She probably isn't, but that doesn't stop it from bothering me. Why hasn't she come to visit me? I've woken up six times in the past four nights, somehow thinking that she's here, waking me up, when really she's not, it's just my brain tricking me.

Ringo grunts in his sleep. I strain my eyes to search the dimly lit room - yes, Ringo and I don't like sleeping in the dark - just to make sure she's really not there.

She's not there.

I throw myself back onto the mattress, shoving a pillow over my ears to block out Ringo's insistent snoring, and noting that my head is throbbing.

I hope it'll be gone by the morning.

* * *

When I wake up, the headache is gone, but my bones feel leaden and my skin feels warm and my tongue feels to big in my mouth. Maybe it'll be better when I take a shower. I run the water over myself, but first it's so hot that it scalds my skin and then it's so cold that my skin erupts in goosebumps. Didn't help very much ... I dry myself and pull on some clothes, and then comb my hair, watching my reflection in the mirror. I brush my teeth, which makes me feel a bit better, but my throat's still burning and I wonder, at each step, if I'll crash to the floor.

'Morning, Johnny!' sings Paul over his cup of coffee.

'You're feeling better, I see,' I grunt, throwing myself into a chair and resting my head on the table. It feels like a bowling ball.

'Much,' says Paul happily. 'I can breathe properly again! How about you, Georgie?'

'Better,' says George. 'Ringo?'

'Ringo wasn't sick yesterday,' says Paul.

'I was just being nice!' says George, and Paul nods. 'How are you, Ringo?'

'Good, thank you very much!' beams Ringo. 'I found me red shirt!'

'You have a billion red shirts, Ringo,' Paul says.

'That's because red is me favourite colour. I almost like it better than Lindsy.'

'Lindsy?' intones George. 'Who's that, yer new girlfriend?'

'No! Me teddy bear. From when I was six. A nurse from the hospital gave it to me when I had appendicitis,' explains Ringo.

I lift my aching head. 'I feel like a pile of shite,' I offer, since no one bothered to ask me. 'Not that any of you care.'

'What 'appened to that nice girl who got us cupcakes?' asks Ringo. 'Isn't she gonna come?'

'I don't know,' I snap.

'Her name's Auri, Ringo,' reports George. 'Pretty name, huh? Awww-reee.'

That's not how you say it, I open my mouth to inform George, and find that I can't speak. I work past the obstruction in my throat, only to find that my voice sounds like I've been eating nails.

'Pretty face, too,' comments Paul, biting into an apple. A surge of jealousy passes over me. 'Piss off, Macca,' I growl. With my rusty voice, I sound feral.

'Someone's in a good mood,' says Paul sarcastically. I scowl at him. Right now, I just want Auri's loving arms around me and her soothing voice in my ear. I can't have that, so I take the next best thing: crashing out full length on the sofa for a long nap.

* * *

Something cool presses itself against my forehead. Aghhh, that feels so unbelievably good. My body feels too hot, like there's a radiator right inside my shirt, and my head still hurts, but that coolness on my forehead is so calming and comforting.

What is that, anyway? It takes a minute for me to ponder that question: my brain is kind of scrambled. I open my eyes, immediately disoriented, firstly because I'm lying in my bed - that's not where I fell asleep - and someone's ever so gently caressing my face, pressing a cool damp cloth to my forehead. I recognize a lock of that long brown hair. She's sitting up, next to me. I try to inhale her sweet scent, but my nose is blocked. 'Auri?' I croak. My voice is so raspy.

'I'm here,' she whispers.

She's here.

Her fingertips absently brush through my hair, stroke my face. 'How are you feeling?' she asks, her brown worried eyes anxiously gazing into mine.

'I feel fine, now that you're here,' I mumble. And I do - not physically - physically, I feel like hell - but something inside me is put at peace. She smiles, a smile that makes me try to smile, and softly touches her lips to my cheek. 'Sleep,' she tells me. 'You need rest. You've got a high, high fever.'

'Okay,' I whisper, pushing my face into her side as she leans against the headboard of the bed. She kisses my forehead, sweet as an angel.

She's my angel.

She's my moon fey and she's my summer sun.

'Don't go,' I croak. 'Promise you won't go till I wake up.'

'I promise.'

* * *

**Poor baby ... Thanks for reading! :) -Jen. **


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

* * *

**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Seven: We Can Work It Out**

'Where is she?'

Paul glances up from his book. George doesn't take his eyes off his guitar. Ringo continues dozing against the arm of the sofa.

'Where is she?' I demand, as loudly as my still-raspy voice will allow me to. All of them start and look up at me. 'Where is who?' asks George, looking confused.

'Auri,' I say. 'She's not there!' I woke up only minutes ago, to find that the space on the bed next to me is empty. With any other girl, it would've been okay. But with Auri's habit of disappearing - and the fact that I don't know how to contact her - I need to know where she is. And I feel just a little hurt and angry that she keeps disappearing without telling me and leaving me wondering where she is. She promised to stay till I woke. Am I being obsessive? I don't care.

'She was in the room with you when I last saw her,' offers George, a trifle unhelpfully. I look at Paul. He looks hesitant. 'She, uh, left the hotel a couple of minutes ago.'

'Do you know where she went?'

'No,' says George. Paul shrugs. Ringo's dozing again. 'Ringo!' I bark. His head snaps up and his blue eyes fill with hurt. I sigh heavily. 'I'm sorry, Rings, I didn't mean to shout at ya.' I rub my forehead. It's not as hot anymore. 'I'm just really worried.'

'Look, John, she'll turn up when she has to,' Ringo says, in his calm, simple, Ringo way. 'If ya have such a problem with it, maybe you should tell her.'

I sigh again. 'It's just ... She keeps disappearing. I keep worrying that one day she'll disappear for good.' I frown. 'Like a rainbow. One second it's there, and then you look away and it's gone!' at the end of the sentence, my voice shoots up in frustration. 'What am I doing here?' I grab my coat and hat and sprint to the door. I might be able to find her, if she just left.

'John,' calls Ringo, but I yank open the door and hurtle straight into Auri, who yelps and jumps away, spilling a very hot liquid on both of us. 'Ow, ow, ow!' I yell, wringing my burning hands. She curses and sets the cup of on the table in front of an amused Ringo and Paul. Then we both go to the kitchen and run cold water over our hands. Hers are pink where they got burned. 'Are you okay?' I ask, concerned.

'Fine,' she says. Then I remember. 'Where did you go?' I demand. I notice that my voice is raised, angry, and she looks a little startled. 'I went to get you something to drink,' she says, frowning. She picks up the half-empty mug from the table. 'For your throat.'

I relax a little. 'You were going to come right back?' She nods. I take the mug from her and set it on the table, and then wrap my arms around her, the feeling of being assured that she's really there, in my control, finally calms my nerves. I squeeze her so hard that she gasps. 'Jeez, John,' she says, moving out of my arms. 'You don't have to get so hyper every time I go somewhere. I can't be around all the time.'

'But I do!' I say earnestly. 'Cause you always leave and I never know how to find you.'

'But I always come back,' she points out.

'Not last time you didn't. You didn't come back for a billion days,' I say plaintively.

'Well, that's what I do,' she says, for the first time ever I hear an edge to her voice. 'I go where I want to, when I want to!'

'It's not easy for someone who's in a relationship with you!' I say. 'How has anyone managed it before?'

'They haven't.' I stare at her in amazement; she's the kind of girl that anyone could fall her, has she really never been in a lasting relationship before? 'I should go now. I'll see you later.' She walks towards the door, and I stand there, dismayed. I can't let her walk out on me like this. 'Wait, please don't go,' I beg her, catching her hand. 'I'm sorry. Don't go.'

'You don't have to be sorry,' she says, her eyes on something else. 'You didn't do anything wrong. It's me. The problem's with me.' The bright sparkle's not in her eyes anymore. 'I just ... I don't know why I go. I just do. I always do, that's what I've always done.' Her mouth forms a sad line. It's heartbreaking to see my Auri like that.

'Hey,' I say, pulling her closer. 'If it helps, I think you're perfect.' A little smile tugs the corners of her lips. 'Really?' she whispers. 'You're not going to get sick of me leaving all the time?'

'No,' I tell her. 'I'm going to help you fix that.' I smile at her, and she smiles too, but it's a smile that says my endeavours are probably going to get me nowhere. Well, like I said before, I'm John fucking Lennon. This should be a cinch for me.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! -Jen. **


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

* * *

**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Eight: Lucy**

'The first thing to do to get you over this little commitment issue,' I tell Auri in the morning over breakfast, 'is take me to your house.'

'My house?' repeats Auri doubtfully. 'I don't think so. I never take guys there.'

'Well, you are going to take me there,' I state. She winces. 'Can't we go to the aquarium or something fun instead?' she begs. I shake my head firmly. 'We are going to your house.'

'Fine,' she snaps. She picks up our coffee mugs and carries them to the kitchen. Okay, she's unwilling, but at least she's agreed. I smile a little triumphant smile.

'Can I come?' asks George.

'Sure,' beams Auri.

'Oh, so you're okay with him seeing your house?' I demand.

'I'm not dating George,' she points out. Oh, well, that's right.

'Now, let's get out of here before Brian comes!' I exclaim, and the three of us make a beeline for the door.

'How much farther?' I gasp, breathless, clutching the railing of the staircase. George is crawling up the stairs on all fours, groaning. We've climbed up at least twenty floors because the building's elevator doesn't work. And of course it has to be a skyscraper.

'Just a little more,' says Auri. She seems completely fine. But, of course, she must be used to this. George and I haul ourselves up, winded, and sigh with relief as she stops at one landing and presses the doorbell. That surprises me: I assumed she lives alone. The door opens and a woman in her early thirties with an exotic face and frizzy hair greets Auri, 'Hello, little flower child. Haven't seen you for a couple of nights.' Her voice is deep and interesting - I recognize a fellow singer.

'This is Sadie,' Auri introduces the woman. 'She's my landlady. Sadie - John and George.'

Sadie looks us up and down. 'John Lennon and George Harrison?'

I nod. George looks embarrassed. 'Pleasure to meet you,' says Sadie. We enter the apartment: it's fairly large, and there are quite a lot of people lounging around in it. Auri introduces us to several inquisitive stares as we pass; 'This is Jojo, he's a guitarist in Sadie's band - this is Max - this is Lucy, Max's sister, she's staying with Max for a little while - Prudence, she just came a week ago.' I didn't imagine Auri living with so many people. But they're all chilled out - none of them are hyper about the fact that two Beatles are in their living room, though they give us impressed looks. I notice George eyeing the blonde girl, Lucy, and nudge him with my elbow. He blushes.

Auri takes us to her room. She's a pack rat, but an organised one. Hundreds of tiny objects are neatly arranged on every surface: stones, shells, figurines, scented candles. Worthless, mostly, but pretty - things that have caught her attention. Paintings cover her walls: murals, like the kind I found her painting on the streets when I first saw her after Hamburg. There isn't a bed - instead there's a mattress covered with a bright bedcover, and several cushions, and a stuffed lion toy. I remember her telling me once that she prefers sleeping on the floor instead of on a bed. 'So, this is my room.' Auri grins at both of us. 'George, why don't you come here with me a sec? I want to show you something.' She winks at me before leading George away, and I grin as she tactfully leads George into sitting next to Lucy. Poor kid's blushing like a tomato.

I walk around her room, trailing my fingers on the psychedelic painted patterns that swirl around the walls. They're mesmerizing. Flowers and peace signs. Odd abstract things I can't comprehend. 'What are you looking at?' Auri's arms wrap around me from behind. I lean back into her and twist around so that I can kiss her. Then I consider what Sadie had called Auri at the door. 'You're my flower child,' I decide. She grins at the name. 'Okay,' she agrees.

'See, was this such a bad idea?' I say. 'No,' she admits, 'it's not so bad.'

'Plus, see, George met somebody special!' I add, grinning. Then I lock my eyes with her brown ones. 'I know what's an even better idea,' I say, seductively, and lean over to shut the door to her room so that we can have some privacy.

* * *

George's POV

I feel like a lost puppy. John and Auri have abandoned me. They've disappeared into her room and I do not want to find out what's going on inside, but I've been left on the sofa sitting next to Lucy and I have absolutely no clue what to do.

There's something about this girl. Her skin is pale and her hair is long, straight and blonde; I can see a couple of colourful beads woven into a small braid in a strand of her hair. Her eyes are large, brown, expressive, set in a face that I can find no flaws in. She seems so calm, chilled out, confident - not in-your-face confident, but sure of herself. She's sitting there completely at ease, totally unaware of the effect she's having on me.

Then she turns her head and catches me staring. I look away so fast that it only makes it perfectly obvious that I was staring, and my cheeks heat. I glance at her to see her reaction. She's smiling to herself. She hesitates and then says, 'George, right?'

I nod dumbly. She's talking. What do I do?

'I saw you on the Ed Sullivan show,' Lucy says. 'I'm a huge fan of the Beatles.'

'Oh?' Oh? Is that all I could come up with? At least I should acknowledge that she just complimented me. Wait. She just complimented me! She says she's a huge fan! Yay! Whoa there, stick in reality, Georgie. ANSWER HER. 'Um. Thank you.'

'Jojo gave me a Beatles poster for my birthday,' Lucy says. 'Come on, I'll show you.' She stands up and takes my hand like it's the normalest thing in the world. My fingers tingle inside hers. I allow her to lead me to a room that's separated from the others by a curtain of beads hanging from the door frame. She pushes them aside and steps through. I follow her, getting all tangled up in the beads. Why, why, why do I have to be such a klutz now of all moments? Lucy laughs quietly and untangles my head. Her hands brush by my face as she does, sending my heart into little excited flutters. Her room is tidy, a pile of clothes neatly folded on top of her bed, a couple of books on the nightstand, some records and bottles lying on the dressing table. There are some posters of other bands on the walls, but I don't see any Beatles poster. Reading the confused look on my face, she pulls me towards her bed and points to the ceiling above it. There's a black and white poster stuck up there. She lies down on her bed and looks up at it. 'This is the only way you can see it properly,' she says, patting the space next to her on the bed. She wants me to lie down on her bed next to her. Hesitantly, I sit on the edge of her bed and lean my head back next to hers, my legs half-off. The poster is a photograph of all of our faces, black-and-white, enlarged. I realise that this is what she sees when she lies in her bed at night before she sleeps. The thought of it makes me feel weird. 'I remember that photo shoot,' I say, just to say something. 'Brian kept yelling at us for smoking, so we hid in the bathroom.' Lucy laughs, her face brightening like a sun. I probably sounded stupid, I decide, now she thinks we're just some silly boys who hide in the bathroom and smoke behind their mothers' backs.

I sit up and Lucy sits up too. For a moment we just look at each other. 'You don't say much, do you?' she says. I blush. 'Everyone tells me that,' I confess. She must think I'm so weird. Gah, she probably wants me to stop bugging her. Should I leave? But I don't want to.

'That's okay,' she tells me. 'That's what everyone tells me, too.' She meets my eyes and smiles shyly. 'I like talking to you.' A smile curves my lips too, hers is too infectious to resist. 'You're a good listener.'

'Thanks,' I mumble, I'm sure that my blush must be eating me alive.

She gets up suddenly, taking my hand. 'Come on,' she says. 'I know a great place on the street where we can get ice cream.' She eyes me. 'You do like ice cream, don't you?'

I grin. 'I love ice cream.'

* * *

**I decided to give Georgie a little bit of romance. :D -Jen. **


	10. Chapter 9

**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Nine: Getting Better**

I lie on my back staring up at the painted ceiling of Auri's room. Seeing where she lives and meeting the people she lives with makes I realise that I barely know a thing about her. Aside from the fact that her favourite ice cream flavour is vanilla, and that she hates wars and loves flowers. And she makes awesome cupcakes.

There are just so many things I have no clue about. For instance, what does she do when she's not with me? What fills her time? Does she have a job? How did she end up staying with these people - Sadie, Jojo, Max, Lucy, and Prudence, none of whom seem to have any connection to each other? I first met her in Hamburg. How did she get from Hamburg to New York? What was her past? Hell, I don't even know how old she is, I don't even know her last name.

And in contrast, she knows everything about me. I've poured out so much of my past and my life to her, I've told her things about my thoughts and feelings that I haven't told other people, mainly because they wouldn't care enough, but also because she knows exactly how much to listen, and when to say what. On that one night we met in Hamburg, she told me more than she's ever told me in the weeks we've been together since.

Maybe it was because she thought she'd never see me again; maybe she was just less introverted then. But there's one thing I know: unless that barrier comes down, this is not going to work. I need to know. I need to fill that gap.

But I also know that there's got to be a reason why she holds back. And I know that she's got her boundaries, and I can't push them too far, because she's not the kind of girl that begs you to come back. Free and spirited she may be, but if her natural instinct is to run, I won't be able to stop her. I can't risk losing her.

I decide that this can all wait for later.

Instead, I sit up, running a hand through my hair, and see Auri with her back towards me, doing something to the wall. I pull the tie-dyed bedsheet off myself, not caring that I'm naked, and go over to see what she's doing. She must know that I'm standing behind her, but she doesn't acknowledge my presence: she's concentrating too hard on what she's doing, which is - painting a figure. From the looks of its mop-topped hair and guitar, it's got to be me. Well ... it could also be George or Paul, since its face isn't painted, but I'm just going to assume its me. I grin and wrap my arms around her waist. She turns in them and pecks my lips, then draws back; she trails her paint-tipped blue fingers across my bare chest, tracing those psychedelic swirls that always make me feeling like floating away on a tide of rainbows_. _She draws patterns on my skin, the smooth paint unraveling under her graceful fingertips, shaping flowers and swirls. Then she giggles, that bell-like sound that makes my heart lift. She raises her lit brown eyes to meet mine, and I press my lips to her pink bow-shaped ones. 'I love you,' I tell her, pulling back.

'I love you,' Auri says, smiling. I smile too. Then I say, 'I want to know.'

'Know what?'

'I want to know everything about you,' I say earnestly. 'I don't know anything. I don't know where you're from, I don't know what you do in your spare time, I don't even know your last name!'

Auri just sighs, tiredly. 'John ... why?'

'Because I love you,' I say fiercely. She doesn't meet my eyes; she's looking at something over my shoulder. 'I don't-' she begins, but I cut across her, 'Look, I know you don't like telling people stuff like that, and I know that you've never been in a relationship like this, but this is how it works! What is so wrong with letting me in?'

'I ... I don't know how to,' she whispers, barely audible.

'I'll show you,' I say, gripping her wrists in my own. 'Auri, I love you and I want to know you properly. Don't shut me out, please,' my voice drops, 'Let me in.'

Slowly, her eyes raise to meet my pleading ones. She glances reflexively away, then meets them again. Reads my expression, my pleading face, her eyes full of uncertainty. Finally, she whispers, 'I'll try.'

* * *

'Alright,' I say authoritatively. I sit on her mattress and she sits cross-legged opposite me. 'We'll start with this. Full name, date of birth, place of birth.'

'John, do we have to do this?' whines Auri.

'Yes,' I state firmly.

Her hand slides to my collar, the tips of her fingers grazing my skin make me shiver; her eyes glint mischievously. 'No!' I exclaim, catching myself. I grab her hands and firmly trap them between my own. Auri glares at me. 'Fine,' she says. 'Jeanette Avery, 17th July, 1944, born in a caravan of traveling gypsies.'

'Traveling gypsies?' I ask. She nods. 'My mum was one of them. No clue who my father is.'

'So how did you grow up?'

'We traveled around till I was about 7, then my mum decided I'd better get some school, so we settled in some neigbhourhood and I went to school.'

'Where was that?'

'I don't know,' yawns Auri, unconcerned, stretching out on the mattress. She seems bored of the whole business, but I'm determined to know more. 'What kind of school was it?'

'A convent,' she says, distastefully. 'No colours, no creativity ... after living seven years on the road, it was so boring!' She flicks some hair out of her eyes, thoughtfully. 'And no boys,' she adds, 'An all-girls school does get to be a bore.' I chuckle. 'How did you end up here?'

'Well, I went to San Francisco first, with flowers in my hair, and then I heard that New York was fun, so I came here, and Sadie and Jo-Jo and all took me in.' She grins. 'Good enough for now,' I say, pecking her lips. 'Thanks, babe. That wasn't so bad, was it?'

She scrunches her face. 'I guess not,' she says thoughtfully.


	11. Chapter 10

**Two chapters in one day, yay! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

* * *

**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Ten: The Girl With Kaleidoscope Eyes**

'And where exactly were you?'

'Holy shit!' John grabs my forearms as Brian materializes in front of us. My heart, which must've skipped at least three beats, makes up by pounding hard and super fast. Does it _want _to beat itself outta my chest? John is also intent on stopping my blood circulation. Brian stands in front of us, the single lamp in the corner throwing shadows in contrast to the light on his face. John and I freeze in the doorway, terrified.

His very scary eyes look us over. Okay, we're both pretty drunk, and we've got flowers in our hair (thanks to Auri), but we were kind of responsible ... I mean, we can still walk straight. At least, I can, not so sure about John. And we didn't shag any unknown girls. And we didn't smoke anything really, just a couple of cigarettes ... well, I didn't, because Lucy's not into that stuff. Auri and John, on the other hand ...

But really, we'd only gone to Auri's apartment ... and then to watch Sadie and the Po Boys with Lucy and Auri. Which was pretty worthwhile, because they are _good_. They performed some of our songs, too, except more Woodstock-y. I pretty much had the time of my life with Lucy. That's got nothing to do with the fact that we left the hotel early in the morning and have arrived at ... I can't really see the clock on the wall because the light is kind of dim in this room (has Brian done that just to make the atmosphere scarier? It's working), but I do know that it's well past two thirty.

...John's got the right idea. We're in deep shit.

It's pretty much all I can do to not crumple under Brian's death glare. John cowers behind me. We wait for him to begin.

'Where were you?'

Since we were at John's girlfriend's house, I decide that he should get to answer. I step aside, blowing John's cover, and look at him expectantly. John scowls at me and then says, 'Auri's house.'

'This whole time?' says Brian. 'From early in the morning to - let's see - _quarter to three at night_?'

'We also went to watch Sadie and the Po Boys,' mumbles John, looking at his feet.

'_Po Boys_?' exclaims Brian. 'Are you trying to joke with me, John? Do you know how much trouble you've put me through? You missed a press conference this afternoon! And a photo shoot! I've had to call and apologize profusely to about a _million _people! Do you know how hard that is? Is this the kind of image you want to project of yourself, _is it?_'

'It's just one bloody press conference, it's not like they'll die if they can't ask me when I last cut my hair,' mutters John under his breath, but Brian hears.

'_Just one bloody press conference? _One bloody press conference with forty bloody reporters all calling and waiting for you to show up! You're grown men now, both of you! You can't act like children anymore, sneaking out of the hotel!'

'Well, why can't I?' bellows John suddenly. 'I'm sick of people telling me what to do all the time! I thought being famous meant that I could do whatever _I _want, but somehow I always end up doing what somebody else wants! I just wanted one fucking day out, what is so bloody wrong about that?'

'You could've gone after the press conference and photo shoot,' says Brian. 'I wouldn't have stopped you then! But no, you had to sneak out like a little boy - well, no more of that, because you're not leaving this hotel till the end of the tour!'

John looks like he's going to explode. 'You can't do that,' he says, evenly.

'I can.'

'Well then Epstein you can just fuck off!'

John stalks into his room and slams the door. I stand in the doorway awkwardly. The shouting match was between John and Brian - now I've got to see what's in store for me.

But to my surprise, Brian just looks tired. He's not going to be shouting anymore. 'Look, Brian,' I say, in an attempt to make peace, 'John's really into this girl, that's all.'

'I know, George,' says Brian wearily. 'But you're the Beatles. You can't run off doing these things whenever you want. You've got a job, you've got to respect it. I'm surprised at you, going with him.'

'Sorry,' I mumble, staring at my toes, 'I didn't know we had a press conference or anything.'

'Just don't leave the apartment again till the tour's over,' he says, 'okay?'

'Okay,' I say with a heavy heart.

I'm never going to see Lucy again.

* * *

'George. George. Hey, George. George!'

Ringo says my name several times to get my attention but I ignore him, gluing my eyes to the magazine in my hands. There's a picture of a blonde model there, and she kind of reminds me of Lucy, but her smile is fake and plastic, not like Lucy's warm sweet one, and her tan skin is glossy and lifeless, frozen on the magazine paper, unlike Lucy's pale soft skin. Well, since John and I are officially grounded, I can just forget all about Lucy.

So you can imagine I'm not in the best of moods, which is why I pretend like I can't hear Ringo. This doesn't discourage him. 'George, George, hey George, George, hey, hey George!'

Something flies through the air and hits my face. A red beanie bull. I scowl and pick it up from my lap, hurling it right back at Ringo. He ducks and it flies straight into Paul's cup of coffee. Paul looks up in annoyance. 'Great, George, just great. I just got ordered that coffee!'

'Poor Paulie, you must be so disappointed,' I say sarcastically.

'Actually, I'm not,' says Paul, brightening suddenly. 'I noticed a nice-looking coffee place a block down, I think I'll nip down there and get meself a coffee and one of those _dee-_licious lookin' cookies! Wanna come, Georgie?'

'I can't,' I say with gritted teeth. 'Oh sorry,' says Paul, not sounding sorry at all. (He and Ringo are upset that John and I went out without them yesterday and had such an awesome time.) 'How about you, Rings?'

'Sure!' says Ringo happily. He lobs the coffee-sodden beanie bull across the room where it lands neatly in the sink with a _splatch_. 'Ringo loves cookies.'

Cookies. Sadie gave us the best cookies _ever _yesterday. Lucy crumbled her cookie over her ice cream, a neat trick, I thought - and it tasted bloody brilliant. Well, darn these two for being so _happy_. Nothing helps a bad mood like spreading it around. In fact, where's John? I can only imagine that he's more pissed than I am. He's sulking in his room. Once Ringo and Paul leave, I pick up my guitar and play a melancholy minor chord. I guess I'll just sit here and wallow in self pity all by myself. Poor little Georgie.

There's a knock on the door. Probably Ringo and Paul again, back to obnoxiously rub in the fact that John and I are grounded, before they go and have cookies. My stomach rumbles, but I know there isn't anything in the kitchen except for John's cornflakes. Woe to he who touches John's cornflakes. 'Open it yerself, it's not locked!' I yell grumpily at the door, Paul and Ringo know perfectly well that it's not locked, they just want me to get up and open it. Meanies.

The door opens and Lucy and Auri come through.

Heat flushes my neck and cheeks. 'Um, hi,' I say, blushing. 'I, er, thought it was Paul and Ringo. I didn't know it was you.'

'John called me and told me you guys are grounded!' says Auri. 'So we thought we'd drop by.' She kisses my cheek and dumps a huge box in my arms. 'Sadie sent those.' Lucy waves at me, smiling her shy smile. I wave back at her, and then regard the box like a child on Christmas. I open it and find - cookies.

'You're the best!' I yell, throwing my arms around Auri in a bear hug. She hugs me back, then fends me off after a moment. 'Say that to Sadie,' she says, laughing. 'Where's John?'

I knock on John's door. There's no reply: he's sulking, alright. I cautiously twist the doorknob, waiting for a biting response, but instead John yells, 'I'm naked, don't come in!' The door's already open, however, revealing John standing by the window fully clothed. He's dragged the bed to the window and tied a sheet to the bedpost - by the looks of it, he's attempting to escape through the window, burning-building style. 'Oh, it's you,' he grunts when he sees me. 'Shut the door before Eppy sees!'

'Brian's not here,' I tell him, stepping aside to let Auri enter.

John stares at her for a moment before rushing over to her and kissing her passionately. I decide to leave them to it and shut the door behind me.

I find Lucy perched on the sofa and sit next to her. I can't think of anything to say. 'I - I like your sweatshirt,' I say. She's wearing a slightly overlarge sweatshirt that's a pale blue colour that suits her skin beautifully, with a rainbow peace sign on the front. She smiles shyly, a pale pink blush dusting her dimpled cheek, and fingers the edge of her sweatshirt. 'Thank you,' she says quietly. I swallow, still unsure of what to say. She glances at me, and then her eyes fall on the guitar propped against the table. She reaches out hesitantly and touches the smooth wood, skimming one finger lightly along its neck. 'Play something for me,' she says. I pick up the guitar eagerly. 'What should I play?' I ask.

'Anything,' she says earnestly. Then she hesitates, before saying, 'Play _If I Fell_.'

That's John's song; I've sung backing vocals on it, but I've never sung the main part. I know the words, though. Shyly, I play and sing, not meeting her eyes that are watching me so intently, '_If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true, and help me understand/ Because I've been in love before, and I've found that love is more, than just holding hands ... _' I pause, glancing at Lucy. She's still watching me; like she's enchanted. '_If I give my heart to you, I must be sure from the very start, that you would love me more than her/ If I trust in you, oh please don't run and hide, if I love you too, oh please don't hurt my pride like her/ Cause I couldn't stand the pain, and I would be sad if our new love was in vain/ So I hope you see that I would love to love you, and that she will cry, when she knows we are two_.' I stop singing now, even though there are more words. Lucy sighs, and I realise that she was holding her breath. 'That was ...' her eyes look into mine. Those shades of blue wash over me, like an enchanted ocean. 'beautiful,' she says. She reaches out one hand, hesitantly, to touch the side of my face: her touch sends tingles throughout my whole body, electric. I reach up one hand, too, to stroke her soft cheek. 'You're beautiful,' I tell her. I don't even realise that I'm leaning in till she shuts her eyes and tilts her face up. I study her upturned face: her black eyelashes resting on her cheekbones, eyes closed: she looks like an angel, the kinds that are on top of white marble gravestones. Her pink lips are waiting to be kissed. But I don't kiss them: instead, I just stroke her blonde hair away from her face, softly. Her lips curl into a little smile, eyes still shut; her right cheek dimples. Then her blue eyes open, inquisitive and lovely. I smile at her, and she smiles too, but her eyes are still full of curiosity. 'Come on,' I say, taking her hand. 'Let's go get ice cream again.'

'But you're grounded,' Lucy points out.

'That's alright, love. We'll be there and back before he knows it.' I wink at her and lead her to the door.

* * *

**Bleh. MUST NOT TURN THIS INTO A GEORGE FIC! Hope you liked it anyway :) Definitely more John and Auri in the coming chapters. George-Lucy is just a side thing. I think I'm telling myself that more than you readers. :P Sorry. Review, as always! –Jen.**


	12. Chapter 11

**Intense chapter, watch out... **

* * *

**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Eleven: Don't Know Why She's Riding So High **

I scan the crowd for Auri. I can't see her amid the drunk, partying New Yorkers. George and I are here to watch Sadie and the Po Boys again - this time with Paul and Ringo and Brian's reluctant permission.

George and Lucy are sitting in a booth chatting - George's lucky that the lighting here is coloured, so his blush isn't so obvious. Paul is talking to a guy named Jude who could pass for his brother - I catch a snippet of their conversation and am surprised to hear he's Liverpudlian too. Ringo is talking to Prudence in the same booth as George and Lucy.

Where is Auri?

I'm sure she'll come ...

Auri hasn't come.

She'd _ditched _me. Apart from the fact that _no one _ditches John Lennon - how could she ditch me? I've never been ditched. People do not often care to ditch John Lennon. And ... she said she'd be here. Well it's been an hour and a half and she isn't here! Sadie and the Po Boys are halfway through with the show. They're doing another Beatles cover, but I can barely concentrate on listening to it. All I care about is the fact that Auri ditched me. I'm still holding onto the hope that she's just a little late ... she's going to turn up ... she _is _...

'John?' Paul says to me. 'We're going up to the apartment, there's a party up there.' I blink at Paul. 'The show got over ten minutes ago,' Paul reminds me. Did it? 'Are ya coming up with us?'

'Auri didn't turn up,' I growl.

Paul looks surprised. 'Well. Why don't you come up, maybe she's there.'

'No, I'll just hang back here.' I sit down. Then I jump up and run after Paul just as he's leaving with the others, 'Wait! I'll come.'

I don't feel like partying. But I do feel like getting drunk out of my mind.

'Another one?' some blonde guy, Max I think, asks me quizzically. 'Yeah, lay it on!' I tell him. I don't know how many drinks I've had, but I'm _feeling _it. That alcohol buzz. _More, more, more_, sings that alcoholic part of me. I down the drink. There's a girl with frizzy blonde hair wrapped around me. She runs her hands through my hair and over my shoulders and chest. 'Come on, let's go somewhere private,' she says seductively, her painted lips inches from mine. 'Yeah,' I agree. She wraps her arms around my neck as we stumble drunkenly through the throng of people dancing and hanging around the apartment, and open a door. Dimly I wonder if we should be going through _that _particular door to make love to each other, but my alcohol-dimmed brain can't find the reason why we shouldn't. I start kissing the blonde girl sloppily, and she rips off my shirt.

Suddenly there's a cry of surprise and light floods the room. Auri stands there, her hair mussed, having just leaped from her mattress. 'John!' she gasps. 'What are you doing here?' Her eyes land on the blonde girl, who's still eating my neck. 'Who's she?'

'Where were you?' I yell. 'I was waiting for you. You can't keep _doing _that! You didn't turn up!'

'What are you talking about?' she cries.

'Sadie's show,' I say, not yelling anymore, breathing hard. I throw the blonde girl off me. 'What the fuck?' demands the blonde girl. 'Do you want to sleep with me, or not?'

'Later,' I snap. She leaves the room in a huff and slams the door, but neither Auri nor I pay her any attention. Auri's still looking at me blankly. 'Don't pretend like you don't know!' I shout.

'Know _what_?' demands Auri, tears in her eyes.

'You said you'd be at Sadie's show, but you never came,' I say.

'I - what time is it?'

'One thirty.'

'I'm sorry, John, I fell asleep! I didn't forget, I just - I had a headache, so I lay down and I fell asleep and I didn't wake up! I – I get these headaches a lot,' she says, uncertainty and a hint of fear on her face. 'I get dizzy and my head hurts and I can't talk when they happen. John, I think there's something wrong with me!' She definitely sounds frightened now, but I can't speak.

'I didn't mean to ditch you. I would never do that.' I take in her messed-up hair, the depression her body made in the mattress where she'd lain. And the tears pouring down her face. She's telling the truth. I rub my eyes. 'I'm sorry, babe, I just lost my temper,' I mumble, making to take her in my arms, but she springs away from my touch. 'What about _her_, then?' says Auri, referring to the blonde girl.

'She's nothing,' I promise. 'I love you.'

'It didn't look like it before.' Auri starts to step out of the room but I bar her way. 'No, you can't leave! I wasn't fucking doing anything with her, don't you get it?'

'No,' states Auri, 'I don't.' She tries to leave again. I grab her arm roughly and drag her back. 'Let me go, John!' she screams, trying to twist out of my grip. 'Get off me!'

Angry, I drag her into the room and push her up against the wall. 'Get - away - John -' She breaks one hand free and brings it down on my cheek with full force. Cursing, I cradle my stinging cheek. 'What did you do that for?' I gasp. Then I raise my hand and in that second my eyes meet Auri's and I see a flicker of fear flash through them, and I realise what I was about to do. 'No,' I say, lowering my hand, but the second I release her wrist, she's gone.

And even as I run after her, begging her to come back, there's no use, because she's gone and I know she's not coming back.


	13. Chapter 12

**Warning - I posted four new chapters today so if you haven't read those, go back and read them :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

* * *

**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Twelve: It's Only Love ... Real Love**

Lucy and I spent every second of Sadie's gig together.

We danced and danced in a blur of music, laughter, and faces turned crimson by the tinted lighting of the crowded bar, and when the Po Boys got off stage and we kept dancing. And when we couldn't dance any more, I asked Lucy if she wanted to get some fresh air. She nodded, clinging to my arm as we pushed through the crowd and went up the stairs, to the lamplit street outside. We walked a tad tipsily. I was working up the courage to put my arm around her when she asked if I had ever had a girlfriend.

Blushing - luckily not too prominent under the tungsten lights - I shook my head. 'Cute little guy like you, I'm sure there was someone,' she says, a spark in her eye. I shook my head again, trying to kill the blush. 'Nope,' I told her. 'What about you?' I ask, to change the subject.

Lucy hesitated. 'Just one.'

'What was his name?' I asked, suddenly curious to know just who this boy was.

'Danny,' said Lucy softly. She hesitated again and said, 'He died in Vietnam.'

Lucy's eyes were lowered, her earlier enthusiasm faded. I took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly, because I didn't know what to say and that seemed to be the only thing I could do. She smiled, turning my hand over and examining it like it was a piece of treasure, or there was secret concealed inside it. She traced all of my lifelines, matched her palm against mine - her fingers were long and graceful, but mine were longer, as was my hand. She touched the calloused tips of each finger, the pads hardened from playing the guitar. Ringo had drawn a smiley face on my thumb before, and she giggled at it. I grinned, glad to have gotten a laugh out of her, and made a mental note to make it up to Ringo.

I kissed Lucy that night, while Paul and Ringo waited in the car to take us back to the hotel. It was magical, and she smiled after. 'Night, George,' she said, smiling, and I nearly tripped on the sidewalk walking backwards to the car, because I didn't want to look away from her face.

'Nice, Georgie,' said Ringo, as he and Paul grinned impishly at me in the back seat of the car. 'Real nice,' added Paul. 'Pretty, she was, too.' I grinned too, self-satisfied, my lips still ringing with the sweetness of hers. 'Ya don't want to get too involved though,' said Paul lightly, 'We _are _going back home in two days.'

And just like that, it was over. Lucy lived here and I lived far away. My dreams were crushed.

But nothing could break the feeling I had. I didn't know whether to be happy or sad.

Only when we were at the end of the road did Ringo say, 'Where's John?'

* * *

Tense change okay? :)

* * *

We figure that John must be upstairs in the apartment with Auri. So we go on up, cursing John with every painful step we have to take - twenty one floors, no lift - and there are people in the apartment, dancing and smoking and hanging out. I catiously push open Auri's bedroom door - there are no sounds coming from behind it, and John's a pretty noisy guy. At first glance I think there's no one in the room, then I see John sitting on the mattress, his head buried in his arms. Auri's nowhere in sight. 'John?' I say hesitantly. He's silent, but his body language says that he wants to be left alone. Paul pokes his head in and says, 'John? Are you alright? We need to get back to the hotel.' There's no response. 'John? We need -'

'I don't fucking care!' screamed John, suddenly standing, fists clenching the air. The room is darkish, but the little light that comes through the door shows that his face is wet. 'Fuck the hotel, Paul, fuck you and Brian and all of you - I don't believe - it's -' an emotion strangles his throat, stopping the words, and I don't think it's rage. Paul walks, very quietly, to John, and very hesitantly, as if he's a wild animal prone to attacking, puts his hand on John's arm. John doesn't stiffen; this is a good sign. Suddenly, John's tiny and crushed, kneeling on the floor with his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. 'She's gone,' he says in a choked sob, his face crumpled in lines of a kind of grief I've only seen one other time: when his mother died.

Given Auri's frequent disappearances which cause such terror in John, I don't know whether to take this one seriously. 'She'll come back, John,' says Paul, pacifyingly, rubbing John's shoulder, but John jerks up suddenly, rigid, vehement. 'She won't!' he states. 'She's not coming back.' He stands up, drags the back of his fingers across his wet, red eyes. Then, wordlessly, he turns and leaves the apartment. We all follow in silence.

* * *

JOHN

As soon as we enter the apartment, Brian senses that something's wrong with me. Paul, George and Ringo shoot his questions to me down with silent looks that they think I can't see. Looks that say, _Leave him alone. He's upset. _I can't find it in myself to feel grateful towards them right now, though I'm sure I will later. I shut out their exchanged looks and silent movements that they're afraid will further upset me, and lock the door of my room. The darkness is a kind of comfort. I throw myself onto the bed, for some reason loathing its absolute softness of the sheets against my skin and the springiness of the mattress, as I loathe the clothes clinging to my body and the stray lock of hair falling in my eyes, and the air that whispers across me. I just want Auri, want her cool hands to touch my brow and soothe me, want her to kiss me and stay with me.

Everyone knows that John Lennon has a big temper. It's never bothered me, really, before. Fuck them! But I never thought of the day when it would spring back and take away the thing I love most. For I do, I really do love Auri. In this trip, she's transformed from that exotic girl from Hamburg who broadened the mind of a younger John Lennon in a single night, to the most incredible girl he's ever met, the one who gets him so completely and who he would never be tired of being with. And I ruined it. I ruined it all.

Because as much as I can hope that she'll forgive me, an angry young man in love and too protective of his girl, I know that she won't. I broke something tonight. It can't be fixed.

And then I remember something else she said: 'I get dizzy and my head hurts and I can't talk when they happen. John, I think there's something wrong with me!' I breathe in too fast, as a mental of image rushes into my head, of Auri running from me, collapsing on a bench in some part of the city, moaning and writhing in pain - 'No!' I yell, jumping to my feet, I have to find her - a lamp on the bedside table crashes to the ground as I leap up in a sudden fit of wilfullness - and then stop, standing quite stil, shivering slightly, I can't do this. I won't be able to find her, she won't come to me. I have to - stay here, I can't leave. Shaking slightly, I slide to the ground, not paying any attention to the cut glass piercing the soles of my feet, or to the worried questions slipping under the door from the other side. I curl into a little ball and try to pass the night.

* * *

GEORGE

John's sadness hangs over all of us this morning, like a dark cloud. And yet his anger has melted, leaving a worn-out depressed John. Cameras flash and reporters buzz at the press conference, but he's listless and answers their questions monosyllablically, dully. Even Brian doesn't chastise him for being so unresponsice, the exact opposite of the image he should be upholding.

But that's not all that's on my mind. I can't stop thinking about Lucy, us dancing last night, the kiss. She's special, I can tell. And she likes me as much as I like her. If only we could stay in America, I can imagine such fantasies - seeing her everyday. Maybe becoming her boyfriend. If only I could stay here ...

Or maybe she can come with me. A silly idea, only hesitantly formed in my overdriven brain, quickly pushed down by all my common sense and rationality - only to spring up again, a tiny hopeful thought, which suddenly becomes to me the only thing that can be done - that _must _be done. The second the press conference is over, when we have a single hour in which to pack up and grab a bite of early lunch before we leave for the airport - I race to the street, catch a taxi, direct him to the Village, where the apartment is. 'Hurry,' I tell the cab driver, 'I need to get there as fast as possible!'

'It's always hurry, hurry, hurry for you New Yorkers,' sighs the driver, shaking his head. 'What's it for this time?'

'A girl,' I tell him. He grins a nicotine-stained grin, and nods. My legs don't even register the exhausion as I bound up the stairs. 'I need to talk to Lucy,' I gasp to Max, who opens the door. 'She's not here,' he tells me. 'But I know where she is.' He gives me directions, and off I am again, because there's time to catch your breath on a quest for love. I run, run, run down to the docks, and then I see her, sitting on a rock, dangling her feet over the water, her blonde hair streaked paler by the sunlight. And she's sitting with a dark-haired boy - the one that looks like Paul - Jude. I falter, suddenly marred by hesitation. They're standing - she looks admiringly to the charcoal drawing he's made of her on the wall. And as I watch, they kiss.

It's a first kiss for both of them - they're hesitant first, then less so. My throat is tight and I can't move. I think to run and break them apart, claim Lucy as my own, but something about the way in which they stand, smiling at each other after their first kiss, makes me stop. Sigh. Turn away before she can see that I came.

* * *

**I really do hate myself for breaking up George and Lucy. But it had to be done. Because I like Jude also. Even though George is awesomer. But this isn't a George fic, and I have to be realistic and all that ... don't worry, there's still hope for John and Auri! Story's not over yet. Thanks for reading! :D -Jen. **


	14. Chapter 13

**Thank you to Starkiller and Beatlesgirl9 for being the only reviewers for the FOUR chapters I put up ... I'm grateful for them though, thanks :D **

**Oh also. I am now entitled to a little bit of bragging, since I'm anonymous over here and nobody in my life can know about this. I SNEAKED INTO A GUNS N' ROSES CONCERT. Without tickets B) I never was a huge fan of them, I sort of just took them for granted, I only went because my brother wanted to, but after hearing them live ... even without Slash ... Axl's voice truly is brilliant, even if it does get annoying. k I'm done now. :) **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Beatles or anything else you might recognize. **

* * *

**Nowhere Girl **

**Chapter Thirteen: After **

FOUR YEARS LATER

I see them, swirls in beautiful colours, painted on a sign hanging a block away.

Suddenly, those memories rush back, memories of a girl I once loved, my summer sun and my moon fey, my flower child. A single night in a midnight city and then a handful of sunlit days in New York; a misunderstanding and my temper, that dreaded Lennon temper. The one time that John Lennon's formidable temper got back to him. And I lost her.

Getting over her took so, so long; I'm normally the heartbreaker. For days, every brown-haired girl had me convinced that it was her, that that seemingly nonexistant Man Upstairs was giving me a second chance. Every painted mural on the streets reminded me of her; even Ringo's scented candles reminded me of her. (I spent the whole day after she left me chewing my way through his three bags of gummy bears that she'd so loved.)

And eventually, I healed. Two years, three years, running on the fourth. I dated other girls; she slowly became a memory, a beautiful one, my flower child preserved forever, never to be more than an image in my mind again.

Still ... those swirls bring back images of her room, her fingers tracing patterns on my skin. Delicate and excruciatingly gentle, just like her. I stop to see what the sign is. It leads to an art studio. I walk in, but the interior is very different from the sign: very different from my flower child: it's all very white and neat and orderly, geometric, sculptures mounted on white pedestals of simple objects voicing simple statements. There's a ladder in the middle of the room, with an enlarging glass dangling from a string above it: I climb up the ladder, put the glass to my eye, to see the painting. It's a mirror, which reflects my iris back at me, huge and brown and rimmed with a rainbow from the light. 'Interesting, isn't it?' says a light, fairy-like voice from below me. I look down to see a tiny Asian woman with straight black hair. I'm reminded of the time Auri and I met in New York, her standing on a ladder in the street, painting a mural, me looking up at her. I climb down from it and say, 'It is.'

She didn't just look short from the height of the ladder; she still barely reaches my shoulder. She wears a white pantsuit, to match her studio. I wonder where that psychedelic, swirly sign outside came from; certainly this woman has not made it. Everything about her, I realise, is so radically different from everything about Auri.

That's good, because I never could replace her.

'I'm Yoko Ono,' says the woman, holding out her hand.

'Pleasure to meet ya,' I say, 'I'm John Lennon.'

'I know,' she says, with a smile.

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**I know most of you won't be Yoko fans, personally I'm not one myself, but she did make John happy ... so I shall put her in. BUT DON'T WORRY, this is the only appearance she'll make. :) I couldn't bear to write about any John-Yoko romance. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope I get more reviews this time! -Jen. **


	15. Chapter 14

**Hey :) I wrote this chapter a while ago, but didn't remember I'd written it till I checked my drafts. It's written a bit weirdly because I was kind of high when I wrote it ... thus the Woodstock references ... my brother and I were watching music videos from then. I hope you like it though! :) **

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**Nowhere Girl**

**Chapter Fourteen: Oh, Let Me Throw My Love**

Well, here is John standing in the middle of a crowd of fervent admirers, he's tripping so high that he's not quite sure whether all those girls are really naked or he's just imagining it. For even though he's become a much more serious-faced man since those boyish days of world tours and mobs of fangirls, with his mane of hair long grown out of its mop-top and round silver-frame glasses, he's still John Lennon. Why do they all have flowers in their hair? That's so like that girl he once knew - in his drugly brain it takes a moment to snatch a glimpse of the name through the haze - Auri. He has not thought about her in a while, since he met Yoko Ono. For they are so very different, it's hard to think of Auri when Yoko is around. Yoko's not here, not right now - where is she? he wonders, but doesn't for long, for there are so many more wonderful things to do while tripping on acid.

I can't seem to stop thinking about her suddenly. Maybe it's because every other girl I see could be her - long brown hair with flowers in it. Skipping, laughing, singing. This is Woodstock, after all.

And then, suddenly, I'm sure it's her. I can't be mistaken. It scares me how certain I am.

It's getting dark and for the time being, no one is performing. There are tents - everybody's only too willing to cater to John Lennon, of course. Well, they are willing to cater to everyone. There are logs, around a tall bonfire, and someone's playing a guitar and so many people are singing. So many good vibes. And there she is, on the other side of the bonfire. she hasn't changed in the slightest. She could just have run out of Sadie's apartment. But she hasn't; that was so very long ago. Her hair is perhaps longer, the same beautiful brown - how could I have thought anyone else's was hers? A circlet of small white flowers crowning her head - of course; that's so like her. Firelight dancing on her childish- still lovely- face. She hasn't noticed me yet, or maybe she has and is pretending that she hasn't. She is so good at pretending.

My staring is interrupted by someone putting a guitar in my lap. 'Sing, sing, sing!' chant the hippies. I don't know if I want to. John Lennon doesn't do anything he doesn't want to. _I'm John fookin' Lennon_. Another snatch of a memory - touches my mind and then flits away before I can catch it, like a bird. Everyone's eyes are on me; I glance up, see hers on me too. So I start to play.

I don't know what I'm playing; it doesn't have a name, but it's something I wrote after that night in Sadie's apartment, when she ran out. Afterwards, after the hotel, after the tour, after it all, I was so torn; this was the seed that was watered with my grief, this song. What its words are I can't write, for without the music, and without my voice, they're meaningless. But I sing it anyway, so deep that I forget everyone's around me. And by the time I remember, it's too late to remind myself that I can't cry here - because John fookin' Lennon doesn't cry, only the private John does, the only one who has heard this song before. But it's okay, because I'm wearing glasses.

That's when I see that all the people around me are crying, too. I can't look at her. I thrust the the guitar into someone's hands and leave. I go into the trees, where it's darker and not many people are.

'John?'

I freeze.

Again, from the darkness-

'John?'

It's her, for sure. I remember that voice so clearly. I can't help it, my feet are carrying me towards her voice. There, she's standing at the edge of the trees. A little firelight reaches, softly illuminating a sliver of her face, but it's enough for me - I'm walking closer, and so is she, but we're both hesitant. 'John?' she asks again, but no question follows: my name is the question.

'Auri,' I breathe, the world like sunlight on my lips, my summer sun and my moon fey.

'John,' she smiles, slowly. Then she says, 'That song that you sang back there ...'

I say, 'I wrote it for you.'

'It was ...' One of her small hands tentatively reaches mine, curls her fingers into it, 'It was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard.'

Then I'm taking her hands, holding them to me, saying, 'Auri, I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so fucking sorry, I never meant to lash out like you that and I would never, ever, ever hurt you, you have to know that, I don't know what I was doing then - I am so, so sorry, please forgive me for everything, please,' 'Shh,' she silences my blubbering softly, putting one finger to my lips. She wipes away my tears with her hands, and then she kisses me. My eyes are closed and it's a blissful oblivion, because never in a million years had I hoped to ever feel this again.

Then I just hold her, and whisper, 'Don't ever leave, my flower child.'

After that, just the fact that I'm alive feels like such a triumph. That I'm alive, that the girl I thought I'd never see again is alive, that we're here together in this beautiful atmostphere of love and music - it's just all so incredible. I keep finding excuses to touch her, stroke her hair, hold her hand, just to prove to myself she's really truly there. I'd be happy to just hold her in my arms the whole time, but Auri's excited to watch the whole show. She drags me all the way to the front, where we sit cross-legged, looking up to the stage. The blue and purple lights shine down from the stage to us, and I feel a kind of relief in sitting and watching, not being the one that everyone is staring reverently at, and it's a soulful song, a love song, I think, and the sky above the sea of listeners is so inky vast. Auri leans back against me, and I put my arms around her, both of us entranced.

Janice Joplin sings, '_Oh let me throw my love, throw my love all around you, yeah_.'


End file.
